


Heat

by Rod13369



Series: Bering & Wells [2]
Category: Castle, Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Multi, Murder, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9640712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rod13369/pseuds/Rod13369
Summary: Worlds collide when a badly burned body turns up in New York's Twelfth Precinct.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a post-S5 Castle/post-S4 Warehouse world, with a few major differences. Beckett was never offered a job in DC, and Castle didn't propose. HG returned to the Warehouse (see my story "Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust"). Myka doesn't have cancer. Originally posted on Fanfiction.net on 24/4/13.

The blaring of a cell phone interrupted Richard Castle’s sleep. Rather than acknowledging his return to the world of the working people, however, he grunted, tightened his arm around his girlfriend’s waist, and buried his head in the pillow. He really didn’t want to talk to his crazy publisher/ex-wife right now….

The phone continued to ring, however, and now Kate was also awake. Rick felt her tug against his arm, so he let her go. The bed shifted as she sat up and leaned over. Rick’s sleep- and vacation-addled brain finally realized that it was her cell phone that had gone off, not his, just as she stated, “Beckett.”

By the time she hung up, Rick was mostly awake and peering up at her from where he still lay on the bed. “Dead body?” he asked.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Kate looked over her shoulder at him. “Yep.”

“So much for a nice, easy day of paperwork.”

“Poor baby,” Kate smirked, leaning over to kiss him. “You know, if you need to recover from our _grueling_ vacation I’m sure that the boys and I can handle this one without you.”

“And have you set up another faux-murder for me to solve?” Rick shook his head and sat up. “As cool as that was, I think I prefer working the real thing.”

Kate laughed. “You are such a geek. C’mon, Espo’s expecting us.”

* * *

 

“Of all the places to commit a murder,” Castle moaned as he followed Kate in to the crime scene.

“Steady there Castle,” Kate tossed over her shoulder. Inwardly, she agreed whole-heartedly with his sentiment: There was something very wrong with finding a dead body in a mom-and-pop bookstore. CSU bustled around the sales floor, marking evidence and taking pictures. Next to the cash register, Ryan interviewed a young man and young woman. Kate didn’t see the rest of her team at first, but then Esposito stuck his head out from behind a bookshelf.

“Espo,” she greeted the other detective as she made her way over, Castle trailing behind. “Lanie what’ve you…?” Kate’s voice trailed off as she took in the sight before her.

Hidden by the bookshelves stood a little reading nook, complete with a rocking chair, a sling chair, and a table stacked with books. The shelves surrounding the area contained not books but a variety of toys and models; Kate noted the presence of such literary staples as the Tin Woodsman, the velveteen rabbit, and several spaceships, including the one from _2001_. The victim lay on the floor, surrounded by several more models that appeared to have come from an open box. From where she stood, Kate was reasonably certain that the victim was female. Unfortunately, the body was so burned that even that observation was in doubt.

“Whoa,” Castle breathed. “That looks like the body we pulled from the pizza oven.”

“Except this time COD are the burns,” Lanie supplied from where she knelt next to the body. She motioned for the pair to join her.

“Victim is Mary Langston, age 40. She runs the shop,” Esposito supplied. “The body was found this morning by the two assistants.”

“What about time of death?” Kate asked Lanie.

“Under normal circumstances, a body should only look like this after being on fire for several hours. But Kate, look around,” Lanie said. Kate did as her friend suggested.

“No burns,” Castle muttered from behind her.

“No sign of a fire,” Kate agreed.

“So how did our vic end up like this?” Esposito asked.

* * *

 

The buzzing of the Farnsworth interrupted Helena G. Wells’ sleep. Ignoring the reminder of her working life, she merely sighed, tightened her arm around her girlfriend’s waist, and snuggled deeper into the pillow. The pair was on vacation, after all….

Of course, the Farnsworth continued to buzz, waking Myka up. Helena felt her tug against her arm, and reluctantly let her go. The bed shifted as Myka left it, and Helena could just hear her feet as she padded across the room. The buzzing got louder as Myka retrieved the infernal machine from the depths of the suitcase and finally ceased as she answered. “This better be good, Artie.”

The Farnsworth being what it was, Helena could hear both sides of the conversation. “I’ve got a ping---”

“Artie, we’re on _vacation!_ ” Myka interrupted. Helena couldn’t help but smile into the pillow at the hint of whine in the other woman’s voice.

“And I am stuck in the Warehouse with Trailer while all of my other agents are out on two other cases!” The older man’s voice softened slightly. “Myka, this ping is right there in New York City.”

“Artie,” Myka started to protest again, but Helena could hear the softness in her voice.

“I promise: Snag it, bag it, tag it, and whatever time it takes to do that you can tack on to the end of your trip.”

“Okay Artie,” Myka sighed. “Give me details.”

Giving up on getting any more sleep, Helena finally rolled over and sat up. Stretching, she watched as Myka dutifully took notes on a piece of hotel stationary. When Myka shut the Farnsworth, Helena stood and walked across the room, wrapping her arms around the younger woman from behind. “Back to work, then,” she commented, resting her chin on Myka’s shoulder.

“I guess so,” Myka replied, laying her arms on top of Helena’s. “So much for our vacation.”

“Now, now, Artie did say that we shouldn’t count this as time off. Don’t worry love,” Helena smiled, “we’ll still have a proper holiday.”

Myka turned slightly so that she could see Helena. “I’ll remember that.”

“Do.” Helena leaned in and kissed her. “Now then, why don’t you fill me in on the details while we take a shower?”


	2. Chapter 2

“We all left around eight last night,” Curt Edmonds explained to Detective Kevin Ryan. “I offered to stay later and put away the new models, but Mary wouldn’t hear of it. Said she wanted to take care of it herself.”

“Where did you go once you left?” Kevin inquired.

“I headed home and spent the night watching TV,” Edmonds replied.

“I went to a friend’s birthday party,” Alice Mitchell said.

“What about Mrs. Langston?”

“She went to pick up Katie, her daughter, from karate class,” Mitchell answered.

Kevin nodded as he took down the information. “Okay. Can you walk me through what happened this morning?”

“I got here around seven,” Edmonds said. “I’m normally the first one here, so I have to disarm the security system. But this morning, it was already turned off.”

“Is it possible you just forgot to arm it last night?”

Mitchell shook her head. “I _know_ I armed it when we left. I had to enter the code twice because it didn’t accept it the first time.”

“That’s right,” Edmonds agreed, his tone suggesting he’d forgotten that information until now. “I meant to run a test on the system this morning. Anyway, I turned on the lights and put my stuff behind the counter. Then Alice came in--”

“—And I asked you where the box of models was. It had been sitting next to the register when we left,” Mitchell explained to Kevin.

“So I started looking for it,” Edmonds continued. “And when I got to the reading alcove, I found…” He trailed off. Mitchell reached over and took his hand in hers.

“Right,” Kevin said, just to fill the silence. “And who called 911?”

“I did,” Mitchell said.

“Do you have security cameras here in the shop?”

“Just the ones here at the register and at the front door,” Edmonds replied, his voice still shaky with emotion.

“Okay, I’ll need the tapes from them. One last thing: Can either of you think of anyone who would have wanted to hurt your boss?” Kevin felt mildly relieved when both assistants shook their heads. “Well, if either one of you think of anything else, please give me a call.” He passed over two business cards and turned away from the pair just in time to see Lanie and another morgue worker pushing out a gurney with the black body bag on it. Javi, Beckett, and Castle were right behind. “Hey guys,” he greeted them, meeting them at the door.

“So what’ve you got?” Beckett asked as the group came to a halt.

The door swung closed behind Lanie, sending a light breeze to ruffle the pages of Kevin’s tablet. In a low voice, Kevin relayed all that he had learned. “Not much to go on,” Javi summed up when Kevin finished talking.

Kevin shrugged. “Maybe the tapes will show something,” he suggested half-heartedly.

“Maybe,” Beckett said, sounding like she didn’t believe it any more than he did. “Okay, Castle and I will talk to the family. I want you two to check those tapes. Get the records for the security system from whatever company installed it, too; there might be something there. And get both business and personal financials and phone records and start going over those.”

“On it,” Kevin replied.

Javi nodded agreement, glancing out the large front window. Then he did a double take. “Hey Boss.” He pointed to the view, causing the other three to turn and look. Kevin blinked to be sure that he was seeing it correctly: The gurney had yet to be loaded in to the Morgue Mobile; instead Lanie had opened the bag and was showing the body to two brunettes. Confused, Kevin turned to look at the other three and saw his expression mirrored on their faces.

“I’ll handle this,” Beckett stated. “You two get to work.” With that, she shouldered open the front door and strode out, Castle trailing in her wake.

Kevin exchanged a glance with Javi. “I’m sure we’ll know if it’s something important,” he reassured the other.

“Right.”

* * *

 

This was definitely one for the books, Lanie Parish decided as she and Isaac loaded the corpse into the standard black body bag. She knew that Kate loved getting the freaky ones, but there were days when Lanie most emphatically did _not_ share that enthusiasm. Days like today, for instance.

“Excuse me,” a voice off to the side called. Lanie turned to see a pair of dark-haired women approaching.

“Can I help you?” the medical examiner asked.

“Agent Myka Bering, Secret Service,” the taller of the two introduced as she stopped next to the gurney. She held up her badge for inspection. “I was wondering if I could take a look at that body.”

“Um, sure,” Lanie said, taken aback. She motioned for Isaac to unzip the body bag. “Is there something going on that I should know about?” Lanie asked Agent Bering as the other woman began to take a closer look at the body.

“Lee Wax?” Lanie looked to her right to see Kate and Castle exiting the bookstore. Castle pushed past Kate and approached the Secret Service agent with a confused look on his face. “What’s a true crime writer doing here?”

Agent Bering looked at the author in confusion. “I’m sorry; you must have me mistaken for someone else.”

“You’ll have to forgive Mr. Castle,” Kate smoothly inserted herself into the group and conversation, “but you do look a lot like someone we’ve met before. Now, unless I see some ID, I’ll have to ask you to move along.”

Again, the stranger held up her badge. “Agent Myka Bering, Secret Service.”

“Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD,” Kate introduced herself. “This is Mr. Castle, a consultant with the department, and you’ve apparently already met Dr. Parish. And you are?” She addressed this last question towards Agent Bering’s companion, still bent over the body.

“Oh, Miss Wells is a consultant for my department,” Agent Bering answered.

Miss Wells looked up from her examination and waved. “Hello,” she greeted them, her English accent startling Lanie.

“Yes, well unless you can tell me why the Secret Service is interested in this case, I’ll have to ask her to step away from that body,” Kate replied. Thankfully, Miss Wells did as requested. “Well?” Kate cocked her head.

“It’s a matter of national security,” Agent Bering replied.

“Here we go,” Castle muttered.

“We’re concerned,” the federal agent continued, throwing a bemused look at the author, “that your victim may have come into contact with an… _item_ that could potentially harm others, as well.”

“Really?” Kate cocked an eyebrow, ignoring Castle’s derisive snort. “Well, if you can give me a description of this item, I’ll gladly tell you if we find it.” She caught Lanie’s eye. “Dr. Parish, I look forward to hearing your findings.”

Lanie knew a dismissal when she heard one. “Of course Detective. Isaac?”

Thankfully, the technician had started moving the instant Kate spoke. By the time Lanie addressed him he had re-zipped the bag and was sliding the body into the van. With a final nod to her friends, Lanie quite happily left the growing tension of the conversation and made a beeline for the passenger seat. She let out a sigh as Isaac slid in beside her and started the engine. Oh yeah. This was _definitely_ one for the books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joanne Kelly had a guest spot on "Castle" before starring in "Warehouse 13".


	3. Chapter 3

Of course, the Farnsworth buzzed while he was in the back room.

Swearing, Special Agent Arthur Nielsen swung around on his crutches and hobbled back in to the main office as fast as his sprained ankle would allow. The swearing only increased in volume when his foot caught on the stool that had been placed by the computer table so he could elevate the injured limb. Sitting down rather heavily, he finally hit the button on the Farnsworth. “Yes!” he barked at the device.

“Are you okay Artie?” Myka’s concerned face filled the tiny screen.

“I’m fine,” he growled, gingerly lifting his foot on to the stool. “What have you found?”

Myka’s expression made it clear that she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t pursue the subject. “Not much,” she reported. She pulled away from the camera as she spoke, and the view shifted slightly so that Artie could see both her and HG Wells. “The body was burned pretty badly.”

“Body? Burns?” Artie asked.

“Mary Langston, owner of the Cozy Corner bookstore,” Myka replied. The rest of her reply was cut off by the sound of the door to the umbilicus opening.

“Fear not, Artemis!” Claudia’s voice rang out. “I have returned!”

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?” Artie grumbled, twisting in his seat as the door swung closed behind the youngest Warehouse agent.

“None, actually,” the redhead replied, striding over to him and depositing a static bag on his lap. “Terry Gilliam’s coconuts, as requested. Oh, hey Myka!” Noticing the active Farnsworth, Claudia leaned over Artie’s shoulder to wave toward the screen. “Hi HG! How’s New York?”

“Well done, apparently,” Artie answered, turning back to the work at hand.

“Huh?”

“Don’t grunt; it’s not attractive. Myka, please continue.”

As Myka described the body that she and HG had seen, Artie felt his mind kick into overdrive. Yes, there were artifacts that caused bodily harm, but what could cause something on this _scale_ …. His thoughts trailed off as HG spoke up.

“I was unable to perform a thorough examination, but it seemed to me that the victim’s burns were most severe on her hands.”

“So she was holding the artifact,” Claudia observed.

“I would assume so, except that there was nothing else in the body bag.”

“We were asked to leave by the NYPD,” Myka explained, apparently sensing Artie’s next question, “so we didn’t get a chance to look inside the shop.”

“Understood,” Artie replied. “Keep me posted.”

“Will do,” Myka responded, shifting slightly. A second later, the image winked out.

“I guess I’ll start looking up fire artifacts,” Claudia sighed.

“I’d rather you put this,” Artie held up the static bag, “away first. Then start looking for information on the victim.”

“Yes sir, O Fearless Leader!” Claudia agreed, snatching the bag and heading out into the Warehouse proper.

Artie watched her go, a smile tugging at his lips. Claudia had come a long way in the last few years…. Sighing, he levered himself back out of his seat and grabbed his crutches. Time to start looking for fire artifacts.

* * *

 

At another time, Myka might have found the situation funny. She doubted the young woman in front of her would have appreciated being laughed at, however.

After finishing the Farnsworth conversation with Artie and Claudia, Myka and Helena had loitered at a small sidewalk café until Detective Beckett and the rest of her team had left. It wasn’t ideal, but Myka was now used to the fact that it wasn’t always possible to work with local authorities in a friendly manner. Few people in positions of power seemed to be able to take the leap of faith that went with the “classified” angle. Hence, loitering.

Once Helena confirmed that the Detective and her consultant had left (and why did his name sound so familiar?), Myka decided to make another run at the place. She was hoping that the power of the Secret Service shield would be enough to get her past the yellow tape. Unfortunately….

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the uniformed officer said when she approached, “this area is off-limits.”

“Secret Service,” Myka replied, flashing her badge and making to push past.

The police officer, a young woman who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five or so, stepped smoothly into her path. “I’m sorry ma’am,” she repeated, “but Detective Beckett gave explicit orders. No one except NYPD personnel beyond this point.”

Myka pulled her sunglasses down and looked over them at the other woman. “Officer Malloy,” she said, reading the name badge, “are you aware that you are interfering with a federal investigation?”

Something flickered in the blonde’s eyes, but apparently admiration for or fear of Detective Beckett triumphed over such petty details as national security. “I’m sorry ma’am,” Malloy repeated yet again.

Myka could hear Helena chuckling softly behind her, and almost joined in. Here she was, a top agent for one of the most dangerous organizations on the planet, and a wet-behind-the-ears cop had stopped her cold. A movement out of the corner of her eye pulled her out of her musings: Two young people, a man and a woman, had just exited the shop she’d been trying to get in to. The pair was headed straight for the tape.

Seeing Myka’s focus shift, Officer Malloy turned her head. Seeing the pair, she stepped to the side and pulled the tape up for them. She glanced quickly at Myka, then looked back at the pair in time to say how sorry she was for their loss.

Myka felt the corners of her mouth twitch. Before the pair could walk away, Myka stepped forward. “Excuse me, do you work here?” The male half of the pair nodded. “Maybe you could help me, then. My name is Agent Myka Bering, and I have a couple of questions for you….”


	4. Chapter 4

Rick and Kate had barely gotten in the car when Kate’s phone rang. “Lanie,” she said, glancing at the screen. Making sure the phone was on speaker, she picked up. “Hey Lanie,” she greeted her friend. “What’ve you got for us?”

“Not much,” the other woman’s voice replied. “Mrs. Langston’s hands, arms, and torso are covered in fourth-degree burns, and the rest of the body would likely classify somewhere between third and fourth.” Rick grimaced and noticed Kate doing likewise. “Given the pattern, though,” Lanie continued, “I think that it’s safe to say that she was holding whatever did this to her.”

“Any theories as to what that was?” Kate asked.

“Pocket flamethrower?” Rick tossed out.

“Sorry Kate,” Lanie replied, ignoring Rick. “That’s it for right now.”

“It’s better than nothing. Thanks Lanie,” Kate replied. With that, she disconnected the call. “Pocket flamethrower?” she asked, turning the key in the ignition. “Is that the best you’ve got, Castle?”

“I didn’t hear you offer any brilliant theories,” he replied in the same teasing tone. She glanced at him long enough that he could see the smile in her eyes before turning her attention to the traffic. “Back to the precinct?” he asked.

She nodded. “I want to see what Ryan and Esposito have found, see if there’s any reason that the Secret Service would be interested in her.”

“Maybe she’s a former spy,” Rick said. “Or a counter-terrorism expert. Or…” His next brainwave was cut off as his stomach let out a clearly audible rumble.

“Hungry, Rick?” Kate laughed.

“Hey it’s been a long time since breakfast!” he protested.

“Call the boys,” Kate told him. “Find out what they want for lunch and tell them we’ll bring it with us.”

* * *

 

Like most other meals at the precinct, it was a working lunch.

“I just can’t see why someone would want to murder Mrs. Langston,” Ryan commented as they sat around the table in the conference room. Files and food containers shared the space in equal parts. “She doesn’t have a record, and the only time her name appears in any police files is this report from two years ago.”

“What was that about?” Kate asked.

Ryan flipped open a folder and scanned the document inside. “Uh, she filed a noise complaint against her then-neighbor in the apartment building where she lives.”

Kate motioned for the report, and Ryan handed it over. “The guy doesn’t live there anymore?”

“Got kicked out for not paying the rent on time for several months in a row,” Esposito replied.

“Any chance he’s holding a grudge?”

“Given that he’s moved out of the city, I’d say the answer is no.”

“What about the alarm system?” Castle spoke up. “Did you find anything there?”

“I called the company and got their records,” Ryan explained. “Everything lines up with what the assistants told us. The system was armed at eight-oh-three last night, and then someone deactivated it at six-thirty this morning.”

“Can we confirm that it was our victim?”

Esposito nodded. “Footage from the front door camera shows her arriving at six-twenty-nine.”

“Didn’t the one assistant say that he was normally the first one to arrive?” Castle asked.

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, flipping to the appropriate page in his notes. “Yeah, Curt Edmonds mentioned that.”

“So why did Mary Langston go in early today?” Kate asked.

“Maybe she couldn’t sleep?” Esposito suggested.

“Or maybe she was running away from something,” Castle stated. “Maybe she and her wife are having problems, and she’s using work as an escape.”

“Mrs. Langston didn’t mention anything like that when we interviewed her,” Kate reminded him, sighing. “What about financials? Anything in there?” she queried the other two.

Esposito snagged the appropriate printout from the pile. “Not much,” he informed them, scanning the page. “Mrs. Langston had two credit cards: A family one and one in the business’s name. Looks like the family went out to dinner two nights ago. The most recent charge on the business card was to an Internet auction site.”

“Do we know what she bought?”

“I think that’s the box of models Edmonds mentioned,” Ryan said, digging through the pile. “Here we go,” he continued, pulling out a sheet. “Copy of the packing slip.”

Kate reached for the page, and Ryan passed it over. “Maybe,” Castle said as she looked over the page, “one of the models was more valuable than she realized. Maybe someone killed her to take it.”

“I don’t think so, bro,” Esposito said. “There’s nothing special about any of those toys.”

“First of all, they’re _models_ , not toys,” Castle corrected him. “Second, do you have any idea how much some models are worth?”

“I don’t know, Castle,” Kate joined in, looking up from the receipt, “she didn’t pay that much for any of these.”

“Maybe the seller didn’t know what they had. Isn’t it at least worth checking out?” he persisted.

“Fine,” Kate relented. “You two keep digging,” she instructed Ryan and Esposito. “See if you can find anything else that would explain what happened. C’mon, Castle.” She got up from the table, making sure to bring the packing slip with her. “Let’s take a look at those models.”

Ten minutes later, a uniform cop dropped off the box from Evidence. Castle promptly opened it and plunged a hand inside. “Ooh Kate, check it out! The _Discovery One_!”

“Do you ever act your age?”

He looked up from the box, smirking. “I don’t seem to recall you asking that last night.”

Kate arched a disapproving eyebrow at him, but had to struggle to keep from smiling. When his smirk merely widened, she quickly looked back at the paper Ryan had given her. “I’ll read the descriptions, you find the models.”

It took longer than she would have thought to go through the box. As Rick exclaimed more than once, the seller clearly had had no idea what half of the items were supposed to be. “How can you not recognize a luck dragon?” he moaned at one point.

Finally, though, Kate read the last description. “Martian tripod from _War of the Worlds_.”

“Uh-oh.”

Kate’s eyes flew up to meet Rick’s as he turned the box upside-down. Nothing dropped out.

“Great,” Kate sighed. “Just great.”

* * *

 

As Edmonds and Mitchell left the café, Helena heard a small sigh escape from the person next to her. “Chin up, darling,” she said, taking Myka’s left hand in her right. “We’ll sort this out.”

“I know,” Myka said, squeezing her hand. “I was just thinking about how we were supposed to spend the day at the museum.”

Smiling, Helena leaned over and placed a kiss on Myka’s cheek. “We’ll go tomorrow,” she promised. “Now then, shall we call Artie and tell him what we’ve found?”

_Bzzzzzt. Bzzzzzt. Bzzzzzt._

“Speak of the devil,” Myka stated, disentangling her hand and reaching into her jacket. “Impeccable timing, Artie,” she greeted their boss once the case was open.

“We try,” Claudia’s voice replied. Myka angled the screen, allowing Helena to see Artie and Claudia.

“I take it you have something?” Artie asked.

“The assistants mentioned that Mrs. Langston bought a bunch of models for the shop earlier this week,” Helena replied.

“On it.” Claudia disappeared from the picture.

Artie watched her go before turning back to the camera. “Anything else?”

“Not really,” Myka stated. “What about you, Artie? Any clues on what artifact we’re looking for?”

“Well,” the elder agent said, holding up a sheet of paper, “I did find a few items that fit the bill. Let’s see: The Reed of Prometheus--”

“As in the Titan who gave fire to man?” Myka sounded incredulous.

“Darling, we did retrieve Joshua’s Trumpet,” Helena reminded her.

“—an Agni medallion,” Artie continued, glaring at the pair’s interruption, “a stone from the bakery of Thomas Farriner--”

“Who?” Claudia’s voice asked from off-screen.

“He’s the owner of the bakery where the Great Fire of London started in 1666,” Helena informed the younger woman.

“ _Ahem_.”

“Sorry Artie,” Myka apologized. “Please continue.”

Helena fought a smile at the glare their boss wore. He clearly was not as put out as he pretended. “As I was saying,” the man stated, “another item on the list was a model of a fireman from Fahrenheit 451--”

“Speaking of models,” Claudia’s voice interrupted again. The screen image blurred before settling on the young tech’s face. “Just pulled up the receipt for that order that Mrs. Langston made.”

“What was in the shipment?” Myka asked.

Claudia’s eyes shifted to something out of the camera’s view, presumably her computer screen. “Well, some of these descriptions suck, but a few of them are decipherable. Let’s see, we’ve got the _Discovery One,_ a figurine of the Tin Woodsman…” Her voice trailed off. “Huh.”

“What is it Claud?” Myka prompted.

“One of the models is listed as ‘Martian tripod from _War of the Worlds’._ ”

“Well that’s a hell of a coincidence,” Myka laughed.

“I know, right?” Claudia smirked. “Check it out: There’s even a picture.”

The view on the Farnsworth shifted again, coming to rest on an image displayed on Claudia’s computer monitor.

“Damn,” Helena breathed.


	5. Chapter 5

Rick was babbling on about his latest theory to explain their victim’s untimely end as Kate pulled up in front of the shop. “I’m just saying: the business would be a great cover for it.”

“I highly doubt the Cozy Corner was involved in black market trading of rare books,” Kate told him. “Even if it was, how would that explain Mary Langston’s death?”

“Someone bought a book that was supposedly in mint condition, but when they got it home they discovered that it had been damaged in a fire. Overcome with rage, they decided to visit a similar punishment on the person who sold them the book.”

“That has got to be one of your craziest stories yet,” Kate informed him as she climbed out of the car.

“Crazier than the zombie apocalypse? Rise of the machines?”

“Yes.” Kate dug in her jacket pocket for the key to the shop as they approached the door.

“Uh, Kate?”

“What is it, Castle?” She reached out to put the key in the lock.

“I think I just saw something--”

“Shhh!” Up close, she could see that the door stood slightly ajar. Quickly, Kate dropped the key back into her pocket and pulled her gun. She glanced back to check that Castle was safely behind her before reaching for the doorknob. _One, two, three._ Kate pushed the door open, ducked under the yellow crime scene tape X, took a long step in to the shop and rose, smoothly bringing her gun up. “NYPD! Freeze!”

Most of the lights in the store were turned off, but a couple of ceiling fixtures plus late-afternoon sunlight through the blinds in the front window allowed Kate to see most of her surroundings, especially the figure standing behind the counter, hands raised. “Turn around, _slowly,_ ” Kate stated.

The person did as instructed. “Detective Beckett.”

“Agent Bering.” The other woman raised an eyebrow, and Kate reluctantly lowered her sidearm. “What are you doing here?” Motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Kate turned in time to see Bering’s partner, Miss Wells, step out from behind one of the bookcases.

“That’s easy,” Rick said as he moved to stand next to Kate, “they’re looking for their mystery item that gave Mrs. Langston those burns.”

“Actually, we know exactly what we’re looking for,” Miss Wells informed them.

“And that would be what?” Kate asked, noticing the small gun held in Wells’ right hand.

“Do you know anything about this box of models that arrived yesterday?” Bering asked.

The change of subject threw Kate off. “Excuse me?”

“The models that Mrs. Langston purchased,” Wells replied. “Do you know where they are?”

Was it Kate’s imagination, or did this woman seem anxious about that information? “They’re back at the precinct,” Rick stated, his tone of voice indicating that he’d also picked up on the other’s concern.

Wells exchanged a look with Bering. “All of them?” the Secret Service agent queried. The worry in her voice was evident.

“We think one got left behind,” Kate admitted.

“The tripod,” Wells stated.

“How did you…?” Agent Bering cut off Rick’s question.

“Detective, I know that you have no reason to believe us, but trust me when I say that we need to find that model _fast._ ”

Kate’s first instinct was to arrest the pair and haul them back to the precinct. But there was something in Bering’s tone of voice… “Then let’s find it.”

* * *

 

“So how did you wind up consulting for the Secret Service?”

Taking a deep breath through her nose, Helena reminded herself that it would not be good manners to hit Mr. Castle, however tempting it may be. Somehow, the group had paired off to search the shop, only Detective Beckett had maneuvered things so that she worked with Myka, leaving Helena to deal with a very talkative man-child who, now that Helena thought about it, reminded her strongly of Pete. In the last few minutes, he’d introduced himself, and, when Helena had asked him about his writing, given her a detailed synopsis of his career and how it lead to his work with the NYPD. Or at least, any time she tuned back in to him that was what he seemed to be talking about. The truth was Helena’s mind was racing on a completely different topic: the tripod. _How did someone get a hold of it? Why hasn’t it come to the attention of the Warehouse before now? Why would it activate now? Where has it been all of these years?_ Belatedly, she realized that Castle’s question had been directed at her. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked how you began working with the Secret Service,” Castle repeated, peering behind another shelf’s worth of books.

“I’m a technology consultant,” Helena replied, silently thanking Claudia for once tossing out the description in jest.

“Like, computers?”

_More like time machines and spaceships._ “Something like that, yes.” Helena straightened up from where she knelt on the floor, having finished checking the lowest bookshelves. No luck.

“How did you get partnered with Agent Bering?”

_Blasted thing! Where could it have got to?_ Helena moved over to one of the freestanding shelving units and began examining the area around it. “We were already in the city.”

“On another assignment?”

“Vacation.” Sudden light blinded her. “What…?”

“Sorry!” The light moved off to the side, and she realized that Castle had directed his flashlight at her face. “Did you say you and Agent Bering were on vacation?”

“Is that a crime?”

“No, no.” He quickly returned to his task. “I just didn’t realize that you two were an item.”

Helena stared at the man’s back, incredulous. “Are you always this nosy?”

“Yes.”

Helena rolled her eyes and returned to her search. If she didn’t find this thing soon…

“What’s so special about this model?”

Time for another partial truth. “It was built by the author.” Light blinded her again. “Mr. Castle!”

The light moved down some, allowing her to see the look of shock and glee on the man’s face. “Seriously?”

“Yes! Now if you please, we need to find it.” _Before someone else gets hurt,_ she added silently.

“Okay, okay.” Slightly apologetic, he turned away again, examining yet another bookshelf. “There’s one thing that I still don’t get,” he said a minute later. “Even if this model was built by Wells, why is the Secret Service so anxious to find it? I mean, it’s not like it works or anyth—did you hear that?”

“What?” Helena’s head snapped up.

In answer, Castle walked over to the next wall, sweeping the shelves with his flashlight. “You know,” the author suggested, “we really should turn on more—bingo!” Heart sinking, Helena finally saw what he did: The tripod, shining dully in the light, perched on top of a stack of books. Before she could shout a warning, Castle reached out and picked up the artifact.

In the stock room, Kate Beckett’s attempts at interrogating Agent Bering were cut short when a scream knifed through the air.


	6. Chapter 6

“Castle? Castle!”

Kate burst through the stockroom door, emerging behind the cash register near the shop’s entrance. A flash of green light and a flicker of motion drew her attention to the far wall. Barely slowing down, Kate rounded the counter and sped towards the commotion, Agent Bering hot on her heels. “Castle!”

It seemed to take ages for Kate to reach her partner’s side, and even longer for her to process what she saw. Rick lay slumped against the wall, moaning quietly, his entire right arm a blackened mess. Miss Wells stood over him holding a small pistol, her eyes tracking something. _Oh god oh god._ “Castle!” Kate exclaimed again, skidding to a stop and dropping to her knees by him. “What happened?”

“The tripod,” Wells replied, stepping aside to make room for Kate.

“Rick?” His eyes fluttered open at the sound of her voice. “You’re going to be okay, alright? We’ll get you out of here in just a sec.” He managed a faint nod before closing his eyes again. Somewhere above her, Bering and Wells were having an intense discussion, but all Kate could focus on for the moment was Rick. Taking a deep breath, she picked up his flashlight and aimed it at his arm, trying to assess the damage. Bile crept up her throat, and only long practice kept her from throwing up. From fingertip to shoulder, Rick’s arm was one large burn. _Oh god oh god oh—_ Kate forced her emotions down. Turning into a blubbering mess would not help anyone right now. As her training kicked in, she finally heard the conversation between the other two women.

“…static bag?” Wells asked. Looking up, Kate watched the other woman scan the shop, holding her gun at the ready.

“Right here,” Bering replied. Kate noticed that she, too, had drawn a weapon; she kept it steady with one hand as she pulled a silver pouch out of her back pocket.

“What can I do?” Kate interjected, standing and drawing her sidearm.

Wells glanced back at her. “Keep that ready,” she nodded at the gun. Nodding to Bering, Wells started moving off to her right, sweeping her gun from side to side. Bering, meanwhile, headed left, shaking the pouch open as she kept her gun moving. Taking a deep breath, Kate headed forward, eyes scanning, searching for any sign of movement.

Metallic clicking to Kate’s right spun her around in time to see something leap at Wells from a high shelf. Before Kate could do more than aim, she heard Bering yell, “Helena!” Wells dropped as a bolt of blue lightning sailed past Kate’s head, hitting the thing dead on and knocking it away from Wells. Startled, Kate flinched, losing sight of the object.

“Detective!” Wells shouted. The metallic clicking had started again, and it was heading for Kate. Raising her gun again, Kate held her ground, refusing to give in to her astonishment when the tripod model _ran right in front of her._ With skill born of training and practice, she led her target and shot just in time to prevent it from running out of sight. The machine barely even slowed before it changed direction, now headed directly towards her. Kate took a deep breath and aimed once more…

A blast of green lightning engulfed the little device, announcing the arrival of Wells. As the lightning dissipated, Wells flew out from behind a bookcase, grabbing the model before it could start moving again. Dumbfounded, Kate watched as the woman’s arm started to smoke and burn.

“Helena!” Bering appeared at the other end of the aisle at a run. Skidding to a stop, she held out the pouch. Wells quickly dumped the model in, and Kate threw up her hand to shield her eyes from the shower of sparks that erupted.

Once the sizzling sounds stopped, Kate slowly lowered her hand. Agent Bering had holstered her gun and was sealing up the now-bulging silver bag. Wells stood rooted to the floor, staring at the bag, pistol still clenched in her left fist, unmoving. Concerned over the woman’s posture and remembering her burned arm, Kate took a step towards her. “Miss Wells? Are you alright?”

Wells didn’t move. “Helena?” Concern laced Bering’s voice. “Helena?” The Secret Service agent reached out and placed a hand on her partner’s shoulder.

Kate opened her mouth to warn Bering about Wells’ injury, but a loud moan pulled her up short. “Castle,” she whispered. Bering met her eyes and gave a brief nod. Without another thought, Kate spun on her heel and raced back to Rick’s side.

* * *

 

As Detective Beckett ran off, Myka turned back to her own partner. “Helena.” When the Briton still didn’t respond, Myka shifted her hand to Helena’s face, turning it so that the two women were eye to eye. “Come back to me, Wells.”

Helena blinked and finally looked at Myka. A single tear spilled out of the corner of her eye and traced its way down her cheek. “Myka?”

“I’m right here,” Myka reassured her, pulling her into an embrace. The smaller woman buried her head in Myka’s shoulder and let out a muffled sob, and Myka felt her heart break all over again.

She had been surprised when Helena revealed that she had built the tripod model, and shocked when she revealed that it had become an artifact.

_“I built it when I was beginning work on War of the Worlds,” Helena explained to her fellow agents. “I found that I always wrote better if I had a model to work from.”_

_“What happened?” Artie asked, his voice tinny from the Farnsworth’s speakers._

_It took Helena a moment to respond, and Myka could see her struggling. “That… A few months later, Christina was killed.” Sudden understanding flashed through Myka, and she reached over to take Helena’s hand. On the screen, she could see that Artie and Claudia had also reached the same conclusion._

_“So the tripod…” Artie began._

_“My anger,” Helena talked over him, “became all-consuming. You all know that I tried to set things right, but when I couldn’t, I poured myself into my work. My hatred and anger touched everything, including that tripod.”_

_“And it turned into an artifact,” Claudia stated. “Just like Mrs. Frederic showed me: Powerful emotions…”_

_“Yes,” Helena agreed. Her face appeared calm, but Myka could tell that she was struggling to maintain control. “And now it has hurt someone.”_

_“We’ll find it, Artie,” Myka jumped in before their boss could say anything. Thankfully, he only reminded them to check in once they had successfully bagged the artifact._

Well, they had successfully snagged it and bagged it. Tagging it would have to wait, and for now Myka was more concerned with putting her lover back together. Christina’s death had colored Helena’s actions ever since, up to and including the present day. Myka accepted that it was a part of Helena, something that would always be there, but that didn’t make it any easier when it reared its ugly head. Helena was different person now, trying to make amends for all of the pain she had caused, and situations like this… _We’ll get through this_ , Myka assured herself, hugging Helena tighter. _We always do._ At the moment, though, they still had to finish this case.

“Helena?” The other’s sobs had ceased, although she didn’t pick her head up. “We need to check on Detective Beckett and Castle,” Myka said, “and then we can go back to the hotel.” _Where I will hold you for the rest of the night._

Helena nodded into Myka’s shoulder before pulling away, wiping her eyes with her hand. “Righty ho, then,” she smiled weakly.

Myka smiled back, then did a double take and grabbed Helena’s hand. “Hey, your burns are gone.”

“So they are,” Helena breathed.

She made a pretense of examining her hand and arm, but Myka could tell that her heart wasn’t in it. “Come on,” Myka said, gently pulling her along. They would wrap up this part of the case, and then Myka would continue her work of putting Helena back together.

* * *

 

“Say goodbye to that shirt,” Kate told Rick as they entered the loft later that night.

“But it’s one of my favorites!” Rick whined, hanging up his jacket. Kate quirked an eyebrow at him. “Fine,” he huffed, heading for the bedroom. “I don’t get why my arm healed but my shirt is still a mess.”

“I’d rather you have a healthy arm than an undamaged shirt,” Kate replied, following him.

“I guess so,” Rick allowed, smiling to let Kate know that he was teasing. She had been pretty shaken by the evening’s events. Well, so had he; after all, it was his arm that had burned to a crisp and then miraculously healed. “I’d still love to know what happened,” he continued, unbuttoning his shirt.

“I told you: We chased that damned tripod, Wells grabbed it and got burned. Then she dumped it in some sort of bag, sparks flew, and both of you were all better.”

Rick knew that that last part was not entirely true; Miss Wells had looked rather haggard through the hurried conference the foursome held at the bookshop. Hopefully, Agent Bering could help her through whatever was troubling her. “Do you think Captain Gates bought our story?” he asked, removing the remains of his shirt and examining it mournfully. The left side was fine, but the right side was flecked with char and missing the sleeve.

Kate stepped up beside him and gently removed the shirt from his grasp. “I think she’ll let our report stand.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Would you buy it?” Kate asked, balling the shirt up and throwing it into the trashcan.

“The victim accidentally purchased a working model of a heat ray, which incinerated itself and her,” Rick recited. He made a face. “Maybe we should have stuck with spontaneous combustion.”

Kate laughed, bringing a smile to his face. “At least she didn’t question the disappearance of the model.”

“True,” Rick said, searching through a drawer for his pajama pants. “I bet Agent Bering and Wells take it to a top secret government storage facility. You know, like the one in _Raiders of the Lost Ark._ ”

“Mm-hm, sure.” Something flew into the back of Rick’s head; reaching up, he discovered Kate’s underwear. He spun around in time to see her long legs disappear into the bathroom.

_Government warehouses be damned, I’ll stick with MY treasure._ Grinning, he chased after her, strange artifacts and secret agents already forgotten.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends another tale. Thanks for taking the ride with me!


End file.
